Reflection
by Bekquai
Summary: A friendship fic about Duo and Heero. The former finds the latter to be more human than either would have liked. Cursing because it is in Duo's POV.


Author's Note: First GW fic. Do be gentle with me.   
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing.   
  
  
  
Reflection   
  
  
  
Funny things, dreams. I mean, a lot of the time they're just weird or dumb or you don't remember them. Sometimes you get one that'll stick out in your brain for the rest of your life. You're lucky if it's a really good dream, but more often than not it's the nightmares you remember the most. I should know. I've had enough memorable nightmares in my short and most likely soon to be terminated life.   
  
But I'm not going to tell you about ~my~ nightmares, though I could tell you dreams that would make you wet your pants, and not from laughing, either. I'm gonna tell you about the one experience involving dreams that sticks out in my mind the most.   
  
This was back in the war. Heero and I were rooming together, undercover at a school. Typical of that period in our lives, really. There was always a school near a strategic base or something like that. It seems a bit contrived now, of course, but back then neither Heero nor I were prone to asking questions as long as the mission seemed to go well.   
  
The night before we were supposed to move on, I woke up to the sound of deep gasping breaths. Not that they were particularly loud gasps, but when you spend most of your life on the streets or in less-than-reputable company, you learn to wake up at every little sound. My life would have ended a lot sooner if I hadn't figured this out early on.   
  
It took me a bit to get my bearings, still not used to the dorm room I was staying in. I sat up, blinking into the dark, and peered across the room to Heero's bed. All I could make out was a large, balled-up lump in the center of the mattress.   
  
"Wha'?" I said intelligently, scrubbing at my face with one hand. I glanced at the digital clock, which glowed 3:47. "Fuckin' A." Yep that's me, fount of cheer when I wake up.   
  
The weird gasps shuddered as though in surprise or pain, drawing my attention back to Heero's bed. I frowned. Now, I can recognize a nightmare when I see one, and I do not appreciate being woken up by them. Especially when they were someone else's. ~Especially~ on nights when ~I~ had been sleeping soundly for once. I kicked my feet over the edge of the bed before I stopped to think. On one hand, Heero might be glad to be woken up and thus saved the pain of going through the dream. On the other hand, psychotic spandex boy might be so high on adrenaline that he'd attack the first thing invading his personal space before he realized he was awake, namely me.   
  
Deciding it was much to early to be mauled to death by my partner, I picked up a shoe and threw it at Heero. It hit the curled lump, making it jerk. I couldn't even make out the movement Heero made before I was staring at the business end of his handgun. I blinked in startlement as he stood an arm's length away, panting heavily.   
  
"What the ~hell~ do you think you're doing?" he demanded, his voice quiet but his voice venomous.   
  
"Waking you up, buddy," I replied, grumpy and unimpressed. There wasn't a silencer on the gun, so he couldn't shoot me in the school. "You sounded like you were having a nightmare, and ~I~ sure wouldn't get any sleep if you didn't shut up. And judging by your reaction, I'm lucky I didn't go over there and wake you myse- hey, are you all right?"   
  
I asked because Heero's gun hand was quivering. That was odd, because his hand never quivered, not even when I'd made Maxwell's Patented Super-Sweet Espresso to cheer up the guys a few weeks before. Hell, even ~Trowa~ had talking like a hyper-active squirrel, but Heero had just frowned at me. Of course, he ~did~ type a 60-page report for the Docs in under an hour... but I digress.   
  
I squinted up into his face. His eyes were unusually wide, and his face went through a jumble of emotions I couldn't decipher.   
  
"Heero?" I asked, suddenly concerned. Mr. Granite-face didn't show emotion often, and this freaked me out.   
  
Heero lowered his hand and the gun slipped from his fingers. I winced when it hit the floor. Luckily it didn't go off, but then my out-of-sorts friend sank to his knees. He closed his eyes tightly and furrowed his brow. His lips pressed tightly together and his jaw clenched. I knew that look. It was the look of someone who was trying to avoid something inside them. I saw it in the mirror nearly every morning.   
  
"Heero," I said quietly. Yeah, I know. My vocabulary sucks. Bite me.   
  
Anyway, I slid off my bed and knelt in front of him, really really ~really~ uncertain of what to do. I mean, I don't consider myself a touchy-feely sort of person, but usually when faced with a situation like this, my first instinct is to hug the person. Unfortunately, Heero had made it very clear to me before that he did ~not~ like to be touched when it wasn't absolutely necessary. Once I'd tried to greet him with a manly, back-slapping hug, and he'd punched me in the gut. My stomach is my Achilles' heel. I went out like a light.   
  
I stopped my train of thought when he unexpectedly spoke.   
  
"I - I can't - it's so hard - " he whispered, so quietly that I had a hard time hearing it even as near as I was to him.   
  
"What?" I asked in much the same tone.   
  
Heero opened his eyes and looked at me straight on. I froze at the expression in his eyes. So bleak, so sad, made all the more poignant by the lack of tears in them. It looked like he ~wanted~ to cry, to release the pain somehow. And he couldn't. Really couldn't. He looked so... lost.   
  
"I can't forget," he said, his voice thick and weird-sounding.   
  
I was really weirded out now, because here he was, Heero Yuy on his knees and broken in the dark. On the verge of tears over a nightmare. And it was like looking into a fucking mirror.   
  
Suddenly, I was ~really~ mad at him. I dunno why, but I've never claimed to be particularly logical. Maybe it was because he was supposed to be the strong one, the unfeeling fighting machine, and now he had the audacity to act how ~I~ felt deep down. He had the gall to be weak in front of me, and I was supposed to just sit there and act like it was all right? Well it's not fucking ~all right~! He had no right to act like that, like how ~I~ would act if I wavered even just once in my convictions.   
  
All the anger and self-disgust suddenly was focused at him. I raised my fist before I thought. His eyes darted to follow the movement, then snapped back to meet mine again. This time his eyes were hard again, the eyes I'd come to associate with Heero. He'd gotten a grip on himself, apparently.   
  
Without a word he stood, grabbed his jacket from the chair next to the door, and left the room.   
  
As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, the anger drained from me like water from a sieve. My hand fell back to my side. My oh-so-helpful conscience kicked in, replaying the look in his eyes when he opened them. I don't even know how to say how bad I felt right then. I felt like I'd just kicked an orphan's puppy to death or something.   
  
I didn't sleep the rest of the night, and Heero didn't come back. Eventually, I had to get ready for my last day of classes. When I came back later on to get my things before I left, Heero's stuff was gone. Even his bed was stripped already. It made me feel like more of a jerk for some reason.   
  
Then there was the whole fiasco in Siberia. I didn't know how to deal with his death, really. It was a good thing that he turned out to be alive before I could get out of the denial stage.   
  
I didn't see him in person again until he came to shoot me in the OZ prison cell. He leveled the gun at me, and I knew it was my time to die. My body ached as I drew myself up against the wall. Even in low gravity it was an effort.   
  
"Well, it'd be appropriate for you to do it," I said, grinning cockily. "Go right ahead and shoot me."   
  
I waited for the searing pain of a gunshot. I mean, it seemed to be poetic justice. I kept waiting. What was ~he~ waiting for, though? A friggen brass band? I opened my eyes. He was staring at me intensely, but his expression was unreadable.   
  
"Well? Aren't you going to shoot me?" I asked, confused. It was probably just as I deserved, and he wasn't obliging fate.   
  
He tossed me the handgun. I caught it without thinking.   
  
"You can still use your right hand, can't you?" he asked.   
  
I don't think I'd been that surprised before. After we'd escaped and made our way to Heero's current colony of residence, we didn't say much. I talked a lot, but carefully didn't say anything. I didn't really know how to bring up the topic, and I really wanted to apologize.   
  
The first night I was in the hospital, I think the nurses and Heero were lying to me. I think there was something wrong with me that they, the nurses, thought I wouldn't be able to handle so they didn't tell me. But I think they told Heero, because he stayed in my room that night, sitting in the chair across from my bed. I thought he wouldn't've even stayed on the colony unless he thought I was going to die soon and he'd have to dispose of my body to avoid detection or something. Yeah, I know, that was way too harsh on Heero, but I couldn't think of another reason at the time.   
  
I fell asleep, and wouldn't you know it, I had a nightmare. It was the one about the blood on the ground and the smell of burned hair and flesh, the one with the voices of Father Maxwell and Sister Helen singing a mocking lullaby to me and then all around there were screams and darkness -   
  
I woke up from the endless dream when something hit me in the stomach. Not hard, mind you, or I would have been unconscious again after waking up. But I jerked bolt upright in my hospital bed, and instantly regretted the movement. The OZzies hadn't been nice to my ribs or my back, and they both protested the sudden movement. I grimaced and looked at my lap. In it was one of Heero's ugly-ass yellow sneakers. I swear, that guy has a demented sense of humor.   
  
I looked over at him. He gazed back resolutely.   
  
"You were having a nightmare. You woke me up," he said shortly. I was surprised. It's not often Heero volunteers information.   
  
"I'm sorry," I told him, meaning it. I bet he knows exactly what I'm apologizing for, too. "The war gets to me sometimes, you know?"   
  
"Yes, I do," he replied in a low voice.   
  
Our gazes stayed locked for another few moments, intense and speaking volumes. Finally, he spoke.   
  
"Go back to sleep, Duo," he commanded, but it was uncharacteristically gentle.   
  
Reluctantly, I laid down and eventually fell asleep.   
  
You know, I don't think that any of the other pilots understood each other as well as Heero and I did. We were so alike it was scary, and, deep down, ~that~ was exactly what we were afraid of. We depended upon the fact that no one could see through us, no one could fathom what we were ~really~ like. Then someone waltzes into our life and blows all our carefully manufactured walls to smithereens. That's what shook us up so bad. That's what made us so damned competitive with one another. That's what made us stick together above all else, even through hell and nightmares.   
  
  
  
  
END   
  
  
  
  
Review, people! I wanna know if you liked it or not. Tell me, please?


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